DIY Disaster

Every Sunday, I write a snarky piece about something I deem obnoxious.  This Sunday, I turn the magnifying glass to the mirror.

The lunacy began on Friday.  The carpet cleaners arrived at 8am to clean all of our carpets so we took the kids to the mall to wait out the process.

At 11:30, my stomach started to churn and I felt nauseous.  By lunch, I had barricaded myself inside a washroom and wondered how I would put in the day.

To complicate things, Beast had an early dismissal from school and was invited to a birthday party that started at 2pm downtown.  Thanks to my unexpected date with the porcelain prince, we arrived ten minutes late for it. Our nanny suggested that we hang out at Chucky Cheese to wait out the party and the carpets.

Great idea.  After an hour inside Chucky, I began to panic.  Where were my car keys?  I searched the change table area, the washroom, the video game zone, the tables, my purse... nowhere.  Ready to cry, and now hyperventilating about how I would retrieve Beast on time, I thought that maybe I had dropped them in the parking lot. So, I strolled outside to check.

Nope. I did not drop them, but I did find them.  Where?  Um. In the ignition of my running, unlocked van.  Didn’t I just write a blog about idling idiots?  Yep.  Now I am one to the exponent of infinity.

Oh dear.  At least the car was warm for the trip back to the birthday party.

At 330, I dropped off our nanny and looked forward to meeting up with my husband at the rink. Instead, I received a phone call from him saying that he would be late for powerskating due to an unforeseen event at work.

So, there I was with a hockey bag the size of Mars on my back, and 4 kids suffering from Chucky and birthday withdrawal.

After powerskating we went to Beast’s hip hop lesson, and then headed to a school fundraiser.

When we arrived home, I was exhausted, but excited to see the carpets. So, I set the twins inside the playroom and walked through the house to admire the pristine carpets.  Wow, that was worth it, I thought.  The house looked as fresh as when we first bought it.

Not five minutes into serenity, a scream from Beast, “Mom...... Mom.... you’re going to lose it.  Get up here now.”

As I rounded the final step, and gazed into the playroom, I spotted the disaster.

Large brown streaks on my beautiful carpet.

And there was precious Dolly holding her soiled diaper in her hand as she looked merrily upon her mess.

Scrubbing and vacuuming took it out, and also made my nausea return.

On Saturday, we spent the entire day prepping the house for photographs and a showing scheduled for the following day.  It was otherwise uneventful.

But, Sunday topped Friday.

My husband had an early morning flight to Winnipeg and planned to take the car.

Instead, I got the surprise news that I would be driving my husband to the airport because the car could not handle yesterday’s snowfall.

Dolly was dressed first and managed to escape the gate and penetrate the pantry.   She dumped a container of flour all over the kitchen.  Brutus, unaware of the open gate, still proved himself to be a fine accomplice.  He found a rogue crayon and drew on the walls in the playroom.

The damage occurred while I wrestled with Cheese and Beast, who treated waking up as optional. Dressing them required kungfu panda skills.  I resorted to bribery and threat to tackle breakfast.

In between the trip to the airport and the hockey game, I cleaned up flour and crayon.

Then, I trudged to hockey. 

“Where’s his hockey stick?” another parent asked.  I knew I brought it in because I remember awkwardly fumbling it three or four times, but now it was lost.

To make matters worse, this was my second time coming to a game on my own and my second time arriving with no stick and no water bottle.

Oh dear.  So, we got the ‘team loaner’ for incompetent parents like myself. 

Then, Beast had one of those games where he acts as though hockey is a solo sport.  He dove for goals. He stole the puck from his own player to get a breakaway.  When "I got the moves like Jagger" played between shifts, he pointed at himself and shook his thang.  As he exited the ice, he yelled to one of the other parents, “If this league had the three stars thing, I’d be number one this afternoon.”  Then he looked back at me, "Did you video tape the game for youtube?"  Again, how is it possible that a shy, introverted mama like myself gave birth to this little peacock?  

By the time it ended, I secretly wished I had a mickey of something good in my purse.

But, despite all the chaos, there did seem to be one blessing. Cheese sat eerily still beside me, and held my hand rather than jumping, running and crashing up and down the bleachers like he usually does.  As we packed the car to leave, I realized why Cheese was so loving.  Just as I snapped his seatbelt buckle, his breakfast burst forth like a volcanic eruption.

People tell me I'll miss these early years later on.  As I wiped the vomit from my coat today, I questioned that a little.